Magic Awakened: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set

by K.N. Lee

  Should he tell Chantal? Could he abandon his old pack?

  Magnus hurried to the sidewalk, exiting the alley, but Chantal had disappeared. His migraine worsened, and he knew he would have no chance at hunting her down.

  The Nightstar Hunters were being hunted by the Blood Warriors. Maybe they knew. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe it was because of his killing the brother. Maybe it was unrelated.

  What the hell was he supposed to do now?

  Chapter 6

  Helping to splint broken bones and give preliminary checkup for animals helped to pass the time, but it was easy enough work that Zelda’s mind continually twisted back toward the werewolf time and again. A man. A wolf. A wolf-man.

  To be honest, she was fascinated by him, by the idea of a werewolf. That a person could change their shape and become an animal was mind-boggling, especially given her research.

  Currently, her efforts to make a plant glow at night like lightning bugs had gone nowhere. A land-based plant-animal hybrid seemed out of reach.

  A man-animal hybrid… the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, and that there was already a living werewolf blew every bit of her research out of the water.

  Did Magnus maintain his human mind while in animal form? That seemed to be the case as he hadn’t attacked her as a wolf, but then again, he had fought and engaged other werewolves, so maybe he was more animalistic then. Or maybe werewolves were just violent, belligerent creatures in their very nature.

  As she worked, the more her mind wandered, and she came up with a long list of questions she wished she had asked Magnus before he left. Did it hurt to shift? When had he first shifted—at what age? Could he remain a wolf for as long as whished, years even? How many werewolves were there? Did werewolves share any of the same qualities of a wolf, such as packs?

  Instead of hanging around after the last pet was taken care of, Zelda bolted out of there, not wanting to talk to anyone for fear she’d start talking and never shout up about Magnus. It was late afternoon by now, and she climbed behind her wheel, hesitating, not sure where to go. Because of Magnus, she never had claimed that herb, but did she really want to return there? Especially when night would be falling soon? Her encounter with the goons last night made her want to stay inside with the doors locked once the moon made her appearance.

  The world was a scary place, that was for sure, made all the scarier given that she now knew that werewolves were alive and very real. Despite her studies on the possibility of plants and animals merging together to create hybrids, the thought of animals merging together like this was beyond comprehension.

  The drive toward home was slow going. An accident caused massive delays, and she opted to take a detour through the city. The one-way streets and the lights every block wasn’t much faster, and night overtook the land. Her stomach twisted from both hunger and fear, the fright growing when she began to suspect that the truck behind her was following her.

  She’d been in a line of traffic from the others hoping to avoid the accident delay, and she turned off, away from them.

  The truck followed her.

  In the dark, she couldn’t tell if the truck was blue or black or gray or another color. She also couldn’t be sure of the make or model. Cars weren’t her expertise.

  The light ahead changed to yellow, and she gunned it to make it through, the light turning to red as she passed.

  Still, the truck passed on, running the light.

  Okay, now there was not questioning it.

  She glanced through her rear view mirror. Two guys were in the truck.

  At least the city was well lit. She could see the driver’s face. He looked fierce and bitterly angry.

  And he also had three parallel lines across one cheek.

  His shoulders were big and bulky. He and the other man both looked strong, and there was something about their features that looked almost… wolfish.

  No. She was being ridiculous. Or was she?

  Yes, of course she was being ridiculous. The chances they were the werewolves who attacked Magnus was next to impossible. She’d seen Magnus through her window. He had rubbed something on her truck, especially on the side where he had sat. She’d assumed it was to mask his scent. Her bathroom had been scented, too, she’d noticed after he left, and when she opened the door, her whole place began to smell. It wasn’t a bad scent, just one she figured was to mask his, so no other werewolves would realize he’d been there.

  Could it have not been enough? Or maybe they had followed her pickup truck back to her place when she brought Magnus there. Why hadn’t they swooped in then, though, if that had been the case?

  There was too much traffic for her to just speed away, and no matter how many turns she made at the last minute, the truck followed her closely. She even slammed on her brakes at one point to try to rattle them, but nothing fazed them.

  Zelda reached into her purse, feeling around for her phone when a car cut her off. She had to slam on the brakes again and swerved slightly to avoid hitting the car. As a result, her purse fell toward the passenger door.

  Damn.

  A quick glance didn’t show her phone on the floor, but when she grabbed her purse, it wasn’t inside of it.

  A jarring impact from behind her had her head whipping back, her neck jarring. The truck had hit her. Her air bag didn’t deploy thankfully, but when she gunned her truck, it didn’t go.

  One of her tires was flat.

  Double damn.

  Zelda only had time to grab her gun before the two guys were there. She locked her car door, but he punched the glass and yanked her out by her hair. Screaming, Zelda fired a shot off, but it didn’t matter.

  They had her.

  Chapter 7

  Magnus spent the rest of the afternoon trying to hunt down Chantal or any other werewolf for that matter. He might not be a Nightstar Hunter any longer, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t counsel them about the upcoming threat. Although he berated himself for not just telling Chantal about the Blood Warriors, he had a feeling that, based on her attitude, she wouldn’t have believed him anyhow. His warning would have to have gone straight to their alpha for it to have any weight.

  Maybe it was his migraine or maybe it was the lingering effects of poison but he couldn’t sniff one out. Maybe that was a good thing because it gave him the confidence to go back to retrieve his stash.

  Luckily, no one else had come across it. Then again, not many people would bother to feel around in a pile of animal waste. In addition to vinegar, animal waste products were another way to mask the scent of a werewolf. Not that Magnus would ever roll around in it like a pig in mud.

  He didn’t bother to count the money or look to ensure all of the IDs and paperwork was inside. Magnus just slid it down his shirt. One last quick check down a few blocks. If he didn’t find a Nightstar Hunter, he wasn’t meant to. He’d leave and move on.

  Maybe he would swing by Juliet’s place. Just double check and make certain she was all right. It still bothered him that he didn’t know her real name.

  The silvery light of the moon and stars highlighted the buildings. Magnus wished he could soak in the sights—some of the architecture of the city was beautiful—and the rich history of Philadelphia, but he wasn’t here for pleasure.

  Maybe one day soon he could find a city or town or countryside to settle down in and grow roots. For now, he would do his due diligence for his former pack and then move on.

  Heavy traffic flowed through the city, and he tried to avoid it as much as possible. The bright, artificial light was threatening to bring back his migraine.

  A few blocks down, he waited to cross the street and watched a car cut off a pickup truck. At the same time that traffic cleared up, a truck behind the first railed into the pickup.

  Without thinking, Magnus headed that way. He hated to stick his neck out, especially when he wasn’t at a full one hundred percent, but he was sick and tired of people being taken advantage of, and honestly, he was disgusted a
t himself for the same. He never should have gotten Juliet involved in his horrible mess. She was innocent of the shifter world, and he had forced her into it, shoved her in and ripped off the blindfold. It hadn’t been fair of him. What he should’ve done once the werewolves fled was to flee himself, away from her, away from them. He could’ve moved onto another place without her aid. He could’ve returned to the city, to the crowds, and healed. Safety in numbers.

  But if the werewolves had recognized him, they would continue to hunt him down. That remained a very real worry, one he would focus on after he helped the driver of the pickup.

  He paused. The pickup. The strange lack of scent to it. That was Juliet’s pickup!

  Two men climbed out of the truck and rushed over to the pickup. In the blink of an eye, he recognized them.

  The werewolves who had attacked him.

  A shiver of satisfaction coursed through him to see the wounds he’d inflicted. Strange. They should’ve healed by now. Maybe they weren’t from his claws after all. And maybe the shiver was from the poison instead as his body jerked and rebelled the moment he picked up speed and rushed over to the pickup.

  One of them punched a hole through the window of the pickup. He reached in and yanked out the driver. There was Juliet, her dark hair melting into the darkness, her eyes flashing. She was yelling, screaming, and then a gunshot rang out.

  Mangus grinned, his legs still churning despite the poison trying to do its best to hinder him. The hairs on his arm rose, but he suppressed his desire to give into his inner wolf. He could not risk that, not here, not in a city full of people. Sharing their secret with Juliet was one thing. He’d noticed the books and papers in her apartment. Her field of study was one that he could appreciate. While she might be able to handle that werewolves were real, the rest of the world wasn’t ready for that.

  By now, the werewolf holding Juliet by the hair had pulled her out of the pickup truck window. The second one was turning toward Magnus. His feet were hitting the sidewalk too heavily. His injuries were preventing him from being able to approach silently.

  Magnus’s fist hit the second werewolf in the jaw. The werewolf let out a low growl, almost a howl. Magnus ignored him and grabbed Juliet’s wrist. “Let her go.”

  The werewolf holding her grinned. “You’re the one we want.” He raised a fist and lowered it.

  Before Magnus could react—and he had quick reflexes, but, yeah, the poison was slowing him somewhat—Juliet fired her gun again.

  The first shot must’ve gone wide, but this one hit its mark. The werewolf holding her stared at Juliet, his eyes wide.

  She shoved him away and yelled, “Behind you!”

  Magnus had already felt the shift in the air and ducked in time. The second werewolf had punched hard, so hard he almost fell, and Magnus easily tackled him to the ground. He cocked back his arm to whale on him, but Juliet touched his wrist.

  “Let’s get out of here.” She reached over the broken glass to unlock her door. “What are you waiting for? Get in!”

  He was staring at the first werewolf. The guy was bleeding, but the spot had been off; he would live.

  Magnus dashed around to the passenger side. Before he could close the door, she always ready working the engine. The truck didn’t want to go at first, and he realized it had a flat, but then the pickup jerked forward. She couldn’t go fast, but at least they were putting some distance between them.

  He watched in the mirror. The werewolves were standing, arguing, fighting, but they weren’t advancing this way.

  Juliet drove straight for several miles before she pulled over. “Gotta put on the spare.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “You’ve done enough,” she said curtly. “I’m not some stupid girl in need of rescue who can’t change a tire.”

  And she climbed out, slammed the door shut—making more glass shards fall from the busted window—and set about doing just that.

  Feeling helpless, Magnus made himself useful by picking up all the glass shards and putting them inside the door cubby. He didn’t want to leave a trail of blood behind for the werewolves to follow. Hopefully most of the blood was from the werewolf and not from Juliet…

  Magnus stretched out his long legs and his foot brushed against something. Her purse. He bent down to pick it up and saw some pens and bobby pins and lipsticks and other stuff down there. He’d just finished putting them into her purse when she climbed back into the truck.

  She braced her arms on the wheel. “What the hell was that?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Your plan to what? Cover your scent? Obviously failed.”

  He blinked. “You realized what I did? You saw me?”

  “Yeah. You think I wasn’t gonna watch you leave?” She turned the key in the ignition and drove away. This part of the city was eerily quiet.

  Maybe she noticed this, too, because she made a few turns, and suddenly, there were lots of restaurants and bars and people, so many people.

  She glanced at him. “Or is this not smart?” she asked, a hint of worry creeping into her tone. “I don’t want to put anyone else at risk.”

  “It’s smart,” he assured her, “but it would be smarter to go to a hospital—”

  “The cuts are superficial. I’ll live.”

  For several miles, she drove, and eventually Magnus realized she was driving out of the city.

  “Uh, where are we going?” he asked.

  Her lips pursed. “Away.”

  “Are you kidnapping me?”

  She didn’t look over, didn’t smile. “You got into the car willingly.”

  “Oh, I see how it is.”

  Juliet braked and pulled over to the side of the road. “Do you?” she snapped. “Do you see?”

  Uh, oh.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “You’re sorry,” she said flatly. “Oh, well, then. That changes everything.”

  He winced. “Please. You have to understand—”

  “You’re almost all healed except for the poison, right? You didn’t really need my help at all. You used me to get you away from them, and clearly they still want you dead—”

  “Actually,” he started but then thought better of it and held his tongue.

  “Actually what?” She unbuckled her seat belt and shifted in her seat to face him, wincing as she moved.

  He hated that she was in pain, and hated even more that he was the cause of it, even if only indirectly.

  “Actually,” he said slowly, “I don’t think they want me dead. Two on one? They could’ve killed me easily. And they let us go pretty easy, too. I think it’s because they want to bring me in.”

  “Bring you in?”

  “Yeah. I killed their alpha’s—”

  “His brother, yeah, you said that already.” She shook her head, lips twisting into a grimace. “So, what? Are all werewolves into murder and violence and torture?”

  “It’s… complicated.”

  “Well, un-complicated it.” She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed, lips pursed.

  “I will. I promise. Just let me…” He grabbed a tissue from her purse and dabbed at the blood through a cut on her sleeve. “You need to be cleaned and bandaged and—”

  “And you want to be the one to take care of me?” She rolled her eyes and bit her lower lip.

  Her lips were perfect, and maybe she was subconsciously drawing his attention there repeatedly. He suppressed a growl. As much as he wanted to kiss her, he doubted that was a good idea.

  “We shouldn’t be sitting here,” he said, leaning forward to look into the side mirror. “If you want me to take the wheel—”

  “No.” But she did start driving at least, albeit slower than he cared for. Then again, she was driving on a spare. “You think they’re gonna come for us again?”

  “Most likely. Not you. Me.”

  “They went after me to get to you,” she countered. “Right?”

  “Yeah. I… You’re right. I guess
you could say I used you. I didn’t necessarily need to go back to your place. I wanted your wheels. I wanted to get away. I was afraid they might kill me or that they would bring me to Ganon, and then he would’ve killed me. Slowly. Painfully. I was scared.”

  “So you thought you could just trust a random female?”

  “I knew you were a strong, capable one.”

  She threw him a confused frown. “What gave you that impression?”

  “I saw you. With the goons. You pulling your gun on them.”

  “You mean before the werewolf attack…”

  “Yes.”

  “You were spying on me?”

  “No. You made an impression on me.” He shrugged and stared out his window. “You handled them. You took care of yourself. I thought…”

  “What did you think?”

  Magnus shook his head. He wasn’t about to admit that he’d thought she might be able to take care of him, too, even though she had already.

  A brief flash of light flickered behind them, but when Magnus tried to locate it again, the light was gone. He rolled down his window.

  “It’s cold,” she complained. “It’s bad enough my window’s busted. We don’t need—”

  “Sh.” He inhaled deeply.

  “Really, dude? You’re sh-ing me? I should dump your creepy, stalking—”

  He inhaled again. “Damn. Go faster.”

  “What? I can’t. Not on the—”

  “Go—”

  Something hard hit into their back. The force of the impact left Magnus clanging his teeth.

  “They found us,” he muttered.

  “Now what?” Her attitude vanished. It wasn’t replaced by fear. No. Firm resolve.

  Damn it all if he didn’t find that attractive.

  “Swerve. Don’t let them hit us again.”

  “Because that’s so easy since they have their lights out and it’s pitch black out there,” she grumbled.

  “Just don’t let off the gas.” He unbuckled himself and gripped the roof.

  “What are you—”

  He was already hauling himself out of the open window and onto the roof. There was only darkness behind him, save the whites of two pairs of eyes. The werewolves had returned, and, man, did they look upset.